


Swelling

by Tricki



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Conflicted Jorah is conflicted, F/M, Guilt, Pregnant Dany, Season/Series 01
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-28
Updated: 2017-07-28
Packaged: 2018-12-08 01:47:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11636391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tricki/pseuds/Tricki
Summary: When Irri fetches him from his tent long after the moon’s rise, Ser Jorah Mormont is immediately anxious.  He has taken to napping in his clothes rather than properly sleeping, now that the Usurper has made an attempt on Daenerys’ life and her time is growing nearer.





	Swelling

**Author's Note:**

> Hello lovelies! This has kicked around my hard drive for a while and I thought the time was right to post it. Set during season one. Allusions to Jorah's behaviour in season one. Jorah is protective but guilt ridden. Just fluff really.

When Irri fetches him from his tent long after the moon’s rise, Ser Jorah Mormont is immediately anxious.  He has taken to napping in his clothes rather than properly sleeping, now that the Usurper has made an attempt on Daenerys’ life and her time is growing nearer.  He pulls on boots, snatches up his sword, and is pushing back the flap of her tent in less than a minute. 

Daenerys is reclining on her pillow-topped sleeping mat when he enters, drowsy.  Drogo is hunting with his bloodriders, the Queen is alone but for her handmaidens.  There is only one candle burning within the tent. 

“Khaleesi?  The babe?”  He asks, worry etched on his features as he crosses to her.

“No,” replies Daenerys, failing to notice the anxiety in her devoted Knight as she attempts to push herself into a more upright position, struggling with the unfamiliar bulk of her belly.  Without her asking, Jorah is beside her, a hand on her elbow, assisting her.  She thanks him with her eyes once she is settled, and lays a hand over her belly.  In the time it’s taken her to adjust herself, Daenerys has thought better of her decision to summon him.  “You will think me foolish.”  She says, resting back against the cushions. 

“I shall not think you foolish.”  He contradicts her gently. 

“I dreamt...”  She begins, drifting off as she relives her nightmare, her Khal galloping on his great red stallion, through the stars and up to the moon, before falling through space, going limp as he fell.

He says “Yes, Khaleesi?” but his tone is so gentle he may as well have murmured _Yes, sweetling?_ as he so wishes. 

She shakes her silver head, a decision made.  “I would forgive you for doing so, Ser Jorah.  I am without a doubt being foolish.  I fear I am no longer used to being at camp without Drogo.” 

“There is nothing foolish about wishing for those we love, Khaleesi.”  Jorah mumbles.  Daenerys is oblivious to the longing in his gaze as his eyes travel over his face.

She smiles with playful disagreement.  “Love is almost entirely foolish,” she disagrees.  “And it most certainly makes fools out of us.”

“One day I shall decide if you are wise beyond your years, or cynical beyond your years.”  He teases her, forgetting the divide in their positions.

“Perhaps both.”  She allows with a good natured smile as Ser Jorah pours her a cup of honeyed wine.

She accepts the cup gratefully and takes a sip, humming softly in approval. 

“Will you sit with me awhile, Ser Jorah?”

“Of course.”  He obliges, settling comfortably at her side, his back against one of the tent poles.  “Was your dream troubling, Khaleesi?” 

Dany runs through it again in her mind, and eventually admits that it was, with more certainty than Jorah had expected.

Daenerys slides further down on her sleeping mat.  “Tell me about Westeros?”  She requests quietly. 

Jorah closes his eyes and conjures up his homeland in his mind, trying to choose a story.

“Have you seen the Kingsroad on maps, Khaleesi?  It cuts a path almost down the middle of Westeros, from Castle Black to Storm’s End.  I rode it with my father five times.  It is a well worn road, the only punishing part of it is its length.  Many a man has killed his horse by taking the Kingsroad too fast.  I first made the journey with him to King’s Landing at two-and-ten - ” 

“You must have thought yourself a proper little Lord.”  Daenerys smiles gently at him, violet eyes taking in his sapphire ones carefully.  His face breaks into a smile to match hers.

“Indeed I did, Khaleesi.”

“What did you travel for?”

“A tourney.  That was the only time we went for such a trivial thing.  My father couldn’t abide them.  Although he won that year.”

“No small feat.”

“Father thought it so.  Scorned everything about it on the ride home, even though the prize money was handsome, and Bear Island has never been a wealthy corner of the realm.”

Daenerys’ smile becomes wry.  “You sound alike.”

The Knight is taken aback.  “Do we?” 

“Few men have as little patience for pomp and ceremony as you do, Jorah.”  She needles him fondly.

“You may be right, my Princess.  I found the maidens pleasing but the competitors tedious.  But I loved the ride with him more than the spectacle of King’s Landing; hearing his stories of battles and watching over the people of Bear Island.”

“What did he prefer?” 

“My father was best suited to the more protective aspects of Lording.  He loves his people, Khaleesi.  Their lives, their hardships, their joys are important to him.  But I failed them.  I put my own needs ahead of theirs.” 

“You have never put your needs ahead of mine.”  She mumbles, voice deepening with the impending threat of sleep.  The Knight almost visibly winces, the knowledge of his betrayal striking him harder than a mace. 

“I am not the man I once was, Khaleesi.”  He says, avoiding a direct response to her comment.  “And as much as I would wish it differently, I am not the man my father would have hoped me to be.  He once told me he would have fought Balerion with his bare hands to save his people.  He told a story of how a great bear and a great dragon were cut from stars - how the sun was born following a great battle between them.”

When Daenerys reaches for his hand, Jorah assumes she has fallen asleep asleep, but she catches him off guard by placing his hand on her swollen belly, just the right spot to feel a series of kicks against his palm. 

With her eyes closed and her lips still curled into a contented smile, Dany mumbles “Rhaego likes your stories, Ser Jorah.”

The Knight smiles sadly to himself; before his eyes Jorah imagines Rhaego’s life, imagines the baby he will be, brown skin and silver hair, imagines him running and playing as a child, imagines teaching him how to use his first wooden sword.  He sees the young man Rhaego will become, the warrior who will take the Iron Throne after his mother.  For the briefest moment, Jorah allows himself the indulgence of covering the young prince with a fur in his mind before pressing a kiss to his Queen’s mouth.  In the present moment he takes a real liberty, touching Daenerys’ hair softly while leaving his other on the swell of her belly. 

“I hope to be telling him stories for many years to come.”


End file.
